<html><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><span style="font-family: Georgia;" class="">Mission: Auld Lang Syne</span><br class="" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;" class="">Day:01</span><br class="" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;" class="">Stardate: 2445.12.28</span><br class="" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;" class=""> </span><br class="" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;" class="">(Risa– Suraya Bay Resort, Hare Lounge - aACMO Ensign SG Heinrich Kruze - 19:37)</span><div class=""><span style="font-family: Georgia;" class=""><br class=""></span></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">Heinrich lost Billy through the course of the night and somehow stumbled through the back door of the Hare Lounge. The lounge was colored in greens and earth tones. Lepids hopped every which way. They were moderately tall humanoid beings with tall ears, large back feet, and busy tails. Heinrich had never seen Lepids before, being a sheltered soul from Alpha 5, and couldn’t help but giggle.</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“Hey there! What’s so funny!” One of the Lepids shouted, startling Heinrich. He turned to see a figure not much taller than himself, with ears that made it look like he dwarfed Heinrich. Close up they looked far more frightening than he had ancipated (certainly no Peter Rabbit) with large protuding teeth that looked made to kill. </font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“No-thing at all, man. Nothing.” Heinrich slurred. The Lepid recognized Heinrich’s inebriated state and let down his defenses. </font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“Oh, don’t bother, then. The name’s Mr. Michael U. Hare but you can call me Mr. Hare for short. What do you go by human?”</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“The name’s Kruze. Heinrich Kruze.” He said clearly thinking it was a far cooler name than registered for Mr. Hare.</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“Glad to meet you Mr. Kruze. Why don’t you come sit down?” Normally Heinrich wouldn’t accept an invitation from a strange alien being in a strange place. But he was drunk. He sat down next to Mr. Hare.</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">Mr. Hare was watching some strange exhibition on a large screen. The figures on the screen were not Lepids, but humans. There were two of them, in a ring, dressed in what looked to be swimming trunks. They punched, kicked, and threw each other around. Mr. Hare was clearly transfixed, so Heinrich said nothing, but in his confusion grew bored.</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“What is this?” Heinrich asked.</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“You mean you’re a human and you don’t know what you’re watching? This is the finest art your species produced!” Heinrich grew even more dumbfounded at the spectacle, not knowing what to make of it having been told it’s fine art. The figures would punch each other, but not leave any bruising. They’d throw each other around in ways that clearly required mutual coordination. One would run into the ropes and run back as if ricocheting, even though he clearly could stop himself at any time. It all looked so fake.</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“I don’t know what this is.” Heinrich confessed.</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“This is professional wrestling! A fine art from the 20th and 21st centuries of your people!” Heinrich grew only more confused. </font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“I’ve honestly never heard of it before.”</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">“You are clearly not a man of culture, then.” Mr. Hare then proceeded to give Heinrich a lecture on the history of professional wrestling on earth, the major figures such as Toots Mondt, Vince McMahon, and Pitbull #2. He explained the nuances of the sport, how it is performed, and the nature of kayfabe. Heinrich was, of course, too drunk to take it all in. After what seemed like hours, but was really an hour and a half, Heinrich felt a little too sober and politely asked to leave.</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">(Reply none)</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class="">(Posted by Tim)</font></div><div class=""><font face="Georgia" class=""><br class=""></font></div></body></html>